Mountain of impunity looms over Kurdistan journalists

Iraqi Kurdistan may seem calm compared with much of the
Middle East, but the media are vulnerable whenever internal political tensions
flare. Amid impunity for anti-press attacks, including murder and arson,
journalists say they must self-censor on topics like religion, social
inequality, and corruption associated with powerful officials. A CPJ special report by Namo Abdulla

Published April 22, 2014

SULAYMANIYAH“You son of a dog, if you publish that magazine tomorrow,
I’ll entomb your head in your dog father’s grave.”

The magazine was Rayel,
an independent monthly publication in Kurdistan.

The “son of a dog” was 32-year-old Rayel editor-in-chief Kawa Garmyane, who had published several
reports alleging corruption among Kurdish politicians, particularly those in
the powerful political party, Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK).

The speaker, according to a recording of the phone
conversation published on YouTube in July 2012, was Mahmoud Sangawi, a member
of the PUK and an army general.

Eighteen months later, Garmyane was dead,
shot outside his home inKalar, south of the city of Sulaymaniyah, on December 5, 2013.

According to news reports, Sangawi was the prime suspect. He
was arrested
for the murder in January 2014, but quickly released
on lack of evidence. He maintains his innocence. A
rank-and-file member of the PUK has been arrested and pleaded guilty to the
murder, but Garmanye’s family says it is impossible for an average citizen to
have carried out the attack singlehandedly and that the real criminal or the
mastermind is still at large.

Sangawi has not denied the authenticity of the “son of a
dog” phone call, in which he used vulgar language to threaten Garmyane, because,
in his own words, the magazine had published a critical article and picture of him
in an earlier edition.

Immediately after the killing, some journalists and human
rights defenders expressed doubt that Garmyane’s murder would be solved and the
mastermind brought to justice. On December 20, 2013, protesters across
Kurdistan carried banners saying, “Not only the killer. Who’s behind the
killer?” and “We all know who the killer is.”

Celebrated Kurdish poet Abdulla Pashew published
a statement harshly
criticizing the Kurdish Regional Government. “Kawa [Garmyane] was martyred in a
country where there are no system of governance, no institutions, no courts, no
constitution, and no laws. That is why we should not expect the trial of the
real criminals.”

“High-ranking PUK officials did this,” shouted a crying Shireen Amin, the wife of Garmyane, to a crowd of journalists and other
Kurds gathered in front of his home in December 2013. “I beg all of you,
members of the media, to not accept this injustice. Kawa was also a brother to
you.” She gave birth to their first child
only 17 days after her husband’s death.

Lack of law
enforcement breeds self-censorship

Iraqi Kurdistan, with a population of around 5 million,
straddles three major Iraqi provinces—Erbil, Duhok, and Sulaymaniyah—and
borders Iran, Turkey, and Syria. The territory boasts its own flag and national
anthem, and the Kurdistan Regional
Government (KRG) enjoys near-total control over the territory’s internal
and foreign affairs. Ruling power has been shared by the PUK and the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP) since 2003, although recently a
third party, Gorran (Change), has made waves by attracting significant votes.

While much of post-war Iraq was ravaged by car bombs,
suicide attacks, and religious extremism, Kurdistan largely escaped such
violence. The economy is booming, thanks largely to huge oil and natural gas
reserves. However, below a surface that appears calm when compared with much of
the Middle East, political tensions sometimes run high, and this is when the
media are most vulnerable. Local journalists say Kurdistan is rife with
nepotism and corruption; many Kurds accuse their leaders of using oil money to
enrich themselves instead of building a vibrant democracy and economy for all.
In smaller cities, such as Kalar and Halabja, people complain about a lack of
basic services, such as paved roads, jobs, and electricity.

Garmyane’s murder was the most recent high-profile attack on
a journalist in the Kurdish territory, but it was not an isolated case. Over the past few years, the nonprofit
advocacy group Metro Center to Defend Journalists, based in Sulaymaniyah, has recorded in detail nearly 700
attacks on journalists, including threats, harassment, beatings, detentions, intimidation,
and arson. Most of the attacks have gone unpunished.

The number of attacks peaked in 2011, when thousands of Kurds inspired
by the Arab Spring took to the streets in a months-long protest against the
rule of what they viewed as authoritarian and corrupt leadership. In the
ensuing clashes, 10 people, including two security forces, were killed,
according to hospital and government officials. At least four journalists were
shot and wounded. That year, the Metro Center documented an unprecedented 359
attacks on journalists and media organizations.

In 2012
and 2013, the number of attacks documented by the Metro Center was
significantly lower, at 132 and 193, respectively.

Government officials claim that the decline in attacks is
indicative of more deeply rooted democracy and increased tolerance for dissent.
Jalal Kareem, the deputy
minister of the interior, told CPJ the ministry has invited Western media
experts to provide security officers with training courses on how to deal with
the media in a more civilized way. He said the diverse media in Kurdistan is
evidence that the regional government is encouraging freedom of the press.

It’s
true that there are hundreds of print, online, and broadcast news outlets in Kurdistan.
But daily newspapers are dominated by the ruling parties, and often publish
unedited transcripts of interviews with political leaders alongside flattering
photos. Most independent outlets publish print editions solely on a weekly or
bi-weekly basis. Television journalism was also long dominated by the ruling
elite, but this monopoly came to an end in 2011 when Nalia Radio and Television (NRT) was established as the
first private television network. All outlets maintain active websites and
social media accounts, and with Internet connections strong, speedy, and
largely affordable in Kurdistan—particularly compared with the rest of Iraq—most
people rely on digital delivery for their news. Facebook and Twitter are
popular, and the Internet allows citizens to engage in deeper debate and
discussion than is found in traditional media.

“Newspapers
could never play the role social media does,” said Hemin Lihony,
editor-in-chief of the online edition of Rudaw News Network, adding that 85
percent of Rudaw’s Internet audience stems from Facebook and Twitter. “It is
changing political parties’ stances on almost every issue. Now, before making a
statement, politicians would think of the reaction it might cause in social
media.”

Investigative
news pieces that drill down into corruption are rare, even for independent
or opposition outlets. Many
journalists say self-censorship is necessary in broaching subjects such as
religion, social inequality, and corruption associated with powerful officials,
their families, or tribal leaders.

Twana
Osman, manager of the independent television broadcaster NRT, said reporters
can write about corruption, nepotism, and all sorts of illegal activities, but
only in general terms. “You can say, for instance, [a particular government
agency] is sunk in corruption,” Osman said. “It’s fine. But once you come down
and say the leader of that institution is corrupt, that’s when the problem
starts.” As a result, Osman said, news reports lack specifics and have no
impact.

In this regard, Kawa Garmyane was an exception, his colleagues
said. In one of the most tribal and rural regions of Kurdistan—fittingly referred
to as Germyan, or the Hot Region, because of its unbearable summers—Garmyane exuded
a rare bravery. His magazine, Rayel,
didn’t shy away from alleging corruption by specific officials, even if they
were as powerful as a military general like Sangawi. Colleagues say Garmyane
enjoyed taking advantage of his writing skills to challenge authority.

“There was something
that made Kawa [Garmyane] stand out among his colleagues,” said Danna Assad, an
editor with independent weekly Awene,
where Garmyane was also a contributor. “While other journalists were general in
reporting corruption, he told us specifically who was corrupt. He named them,
and, you know, that is a red line here.”

In theory, muckraking journalists like Garmyane enjoy the
protection of the law in Kurdistan. The region’s press law, known as Law No. 35
of 2007, prohibits the imprisonment, harassment, or physical abuse of reporters
and the closing down of publications. Many journalists working for independent
and opposition media outlets accepted the law, which represented a major
departure from legislation under Saddam Hussein’s dictatorial regime.

The law is progressive compared with those in other Middle
East nations, but falls short of international standards because of vaguely
worded prohibitions against “sowing malice and fostering hatred,” “insulting
religious beliefs,” “insulting and offending religious symbols,” or divulging
details of “the private lives of individuals.” Journalists say the vague
wording can be interpreted arbitrarily and used by the ruling elite to stifle
dissent.

Awat
Ali, director of the Metro Center, told CPJ that hundreds of lawsuits are filed
against journalists every year that accuse them of defamation, espionage,
disrespecting religion, and “deviation from social norms.” While under the
press law, no journalist is supposed to be jailed for his work, many have been
detained for days or more until trial. They are often freed only after paying
hundreds of dollars in bail.

In mid 2013, the Parliament passed another law that guaranteed the public
the right of access to government information, similar to the Freedom of
Information Act in the United States. But local journalists say that neither
access nor legal protection is the problem—it is lack of law
enforcement.

“Kurdistan
is a region where law is not enforced, courts are not independent,” Rahman
Gharib, general coordinator for the Metro Center, told CPJ.

Critics
say the region’s judiciary and security systems are rigged by the two longtime
ruling parties, the PUK and the KDP. Each party has its own independent
militia, which act as security and police forces in their respective
strongholds, responding to party leaders rather than the ministries of interior
or defense. Sulaymaniyah is a
PUK stronghold, while the KDP is dominant in the cities of Erbil and Duhok. Critics
say the parties appoint
judges on the basis of loyalty rather than on merit, and that these factors
often make it impossible to get high-ranking party and government officials
arrested for suspected crimes.

CPJ
sought the government’s response to these criticisms and other findings of this
report. The office of President Masoud Barzani did not respond to CPJ’s emailed
questions.

In September 2013 parliamentary elections, the third
party, Gorran, did surprisingly well, emerging as the second most popular party
ahead of the PUK. Even if Gorran’s rise upsets the KDP-PUK power-sharing
formula, however, the PUK is expected to remain a powerful player because of
its strong military wing dominating the province of Sulaymaniyah.

As political
tensions escalated in the run-up to the September 2013 elections, there was a
noticeable rise in attacks on journalists. The annual number of attacks had
fallen in 2012, after spiking in 2011 amid the Arab Spring.

“Whenever
there is a crisis in this country, or some sort of sensitive political
situation, laws, democracy, and human rights mean nothing,” Asos Hardi, an
acclaimed journalist and manager of the Awene Press and Publishing Company, which
publishes the independent weekly newspaper Awene,
told CPJ. The number of attacks on
journalists each year needs to be seen in context, said Hardi, who himself was
beaten by an unidentified assailant wielding a metal object in August 2011 and
needed 32 stitches. (Only the purported driver of the assailant has been
punished, and despite the driver’s testimony regarding two others involved in
the attack, nobody else has been charged.)

Six months after the elections, Kurdistan was
still in political deadlock, without a government.

An unsolved murder

One of
the most emblematic attacks on Kurdistan’s press involved a student journalist,
Sardasht Osman, 23, who was studying English in his final year when he was
abducted at the gates of Salahaddin University in Erbil on May 4, 2010. He was
a freelancer who had contributed to the independent newspaper Ashtiname and the
news websites Sbei, Kurdistan Post,
Awene, Hawlati, and Lvinpress.

Osman
wrote scathing articles about corruption involving high-ranking government
officials and the region’s two major political parties. His death came at a
time of rising political tension. The newly established Gorran, billing itself
a reformist party, had done remarkably well in July 2009 elections, winning
nearly one-fourth of the region’s 111 parliament seats. Voters saw
unprecedented live television coverage of opposition lawmakers speaking aloud
in Parliament about corruption and dodgy oil deals.

One of Osman’s
most critical pieces was a tongue-in-cheek article about the family of
President Barzani, leader of the KDP, called “I Am In Love With Barzani’s
Daughter.” In the story, which was published in December 2009 under a pseudonym
in Kurdistan Post, Osman attacked widening income
inequality and wondered whether he might escape his poor origins by marrying
one of Barzani’s three daughters.

Osman’s
brother, Bashdar Osman, told CPJ that after the article was published his
brother received multiple anonymous threats by phone and in text messages. He
grew increasingly fearful. In his final article, Osman wrote of his
anticipation of being murdered. “I am not afraid of death from torture,” he
wrote. “I’m here waiting for my appointment with my murderers. I am praying for
the most tragic death possible, to match my tragic life.”

He was
abducted during the morning rush hour in Kurdistan’s capital and forced into a minibus,
according to witnesses. Despite the presence of checkpoints on the Erbil-Mosul
road, security forces say Osman was successfully transported to Mosul, another
northern Iraqi city, where he was found dead on a road two days later with two
bullets in the head.

Seventy-five
Kurdish journalists, editors, and intellectuals issued a statement in May 2010,
holding the regional government responsible for Osman’s death. “This work is
beyond the capability of one person or one small group,” the statement said.
“We believe the Kurdistan Regional Government and its security forces are
responsible first and foremost and they are supposed to do everything in order
to find this evil hand.”

On May
10, 2010, hundreds of university students marched from where Osman was abducted
and tried to storm Parliament, chanting: “Whose hands are stained with the
blood of Sardasht?” Parliament Speaker Kamal Kirkuki, a member of the KDP, tried
to address the crowd, but protesters threw water bottles and shoes at him until
he was forced to leave the podium.

Shortly
after the murder, Barzani said he appointed a committee to investigate the
crime but did not identify the group’s members. There is little information
available about whether the committee ever met or even existed.

Five
months later, however, security forces televised a taped confession of a man
named Hisham Mahmoud Ismaeel, who said that he had
been the driver of the minibus that carried Osman to Mosul. Identifying himself
as a member of Ansar al-Islam, a group affiliated with Al-Qaeda, Ismaeel
said Osman was killed because he had failed to carry out some unspecified work
for the Islamist group. But in a statement published in local media, Ansar
al-Islam denied its involvement. Members of Osman’s family told reportersthey were threatened by government
forces after speaking out against the notion that Osman had ties to a terrorist
group. Ismaeel is still in prison, according to security forces.

CPJ and
other local and international rights groups criticized the inquiry for lacking
credibility and transparency. It outraged others, too. In a newspaper column, Bachtyar
Ali, a prominent Iraqi Kurdish novelist, called the finding a “brazen lie.” His
colleagues said they had known Osman as a leftist, liberal, and secular man—not
a religious fanatic.

Bashdar
Osman told CPJ that he was so outspoken about government involvement in his
brother’s murder that he feared for his own life and fled Kurdistan for Europe,
and only recently returned to visit Kurdistan. In a phone interview with CPJ,
he said he continues to believe that the government investigation into his
brother's death was fabricated. "Everything—from A to Z—was a lie and made
up," he said. "His death changed our life forever. It changed many
things in the lives of the people of Kurdistan, too. Sardasht's issue has now
become the issue of freedom." He said only an impartial inquiry led by
members of international organizations could identify "the real
murderer."

A brazen arson attack

Months
after Osman’s death, the Arab Spring protests sweeping North Africa and the
Middle East reached Iraqi Kurdistan. On February 17, 2011, thousands of Kurds
in Sulaymaniyah began
protesting, calling for an end to corruption and the authoritarian rule of the
region’s leaders.

At the
time, a number of prominent independent journalists established NRT, the
territory’s first private television network. NRT started its broadcast with
strong coverage of the protests, relaying live images of people chanting
slogans that questioned the legitimacy of Barzani and Jalal Talabani, who heads
the PUK, the second most powerful party, and holds the ceremonial post of Iraqi
president. (Talabani suffered a stroke in late 2012 and has been outside the country since, according to
news reports.)

Shortly
after its launch, the television station received a phone call with a chilling
message, according to Twana Osman, NRT’s manager(no relation to the slain journalist Sardasht Osman): “You either
stop airing the protest or pay a price for it.” The television station chose
the latter. On a dark winter night in February 2011, a few days after its
launch, dozens of armed men broke into NRT’s headquarters and torched the
entire building. The studios were empty at the time and no one was injured.

Three years
later, there have been no arrests. In March 2011, Barham Salih, then prime
minister of Kurdistan, declared
in Parliament that the Court of Sulaymaniyah had issued arrest warrants for “eight or nine people”
accused of having played some role in the attack on NRT. “Two of them are known,” said Salih. “One of
them belongs to the Anti-Terror Agency. The other belongs to the Ministry of
Peshmarga (Defense).” Without further elaboration, Salih promised to do
everything possible to bring the perpetrators to justice.

Nearly
a week later, the two men to whom Salih alluded did appear in court, according
to NRT. The station reported that one
suspect was the head of the intelligence operations of the Ministry of
Peshmarga, while the other was the head of the intelligence department of the
Anti-Terror Agency, a special army counter-terrorist unit. NRT did not report
the suspects’ names.

At the
trial, both officials denied involvement in the attack and neither was jailed.
NRT reported that security forces and bodyguards of the suspects gathered outside
and inside the court building. Without naming sources, NRT said one brought
receipts to trial to prove he was away from Sulaymaniyah at the time of the attack on
NRT, while the other disputed his involvement by saying, “I’m too fat”—implying
that a commando-style raid would require physical fitness. Physical responsibility
for the arson, however, was not the main issue to be resolved.

Because
the two men work in intelligence, their identities are secret and CPJ could not
reach out to either official for comment.

The
unresolved case of NRT has left journalists particularly disappointed about the
effectiveness of the judiciary and law enforcement agencies in Kurdistan. It
remains a mystery how someone could get away with burning down an entire
television station in one of the safest, most guarded, and upscale residential
areas of Sulaymaniyah.
NRT is based in German Village, a newly built gated community where affluent
expatriates can afford to live.

In
August 2013, a CPJ researcher visited the television station for an update. NRT
continues to exist as a powerful medium. The headquarters is renovated. Its reporters seem determined. The inner
walls of the new offices are decked with pictures of the debris of what used to
be their workplace.

But
Twana Osman told CPJ that he has become completely disillusioned with
Kurdistan’s whole system of governance.

“Those
who have burnt the station are part of a group that is bigger than the
government,” Osman said, adding that there was sufficient evidence available
for an independent court to arrive at a conclusive result. “If the court is
serious about it—if it were independent in the first place—we would easily be
able to tell who the criminals are,” he said.

CPJ asked
Jalal Kareem, the deputy minister of interior, why the NRT attackers remain at
large. His response included an implied acknowledgment that some people are
above the law in Kurdistan: “[Osman] knows who burnt it down,” Kareem said.
“The court also knows who burnt it down.” He suggested that the actual
attackers might have left Iraq for a foreign country.

Rahman Gharib,
the coordinator for the Metro Center, said he believes Kurdistan’s judicial
system is not independent. “All the judges are appointed on the basis of their
loyalty to the ruling parties,” he said.

Rawand
Maasum, a judge serving as an official at the Ministry of Justice, disputes
this. “All of us have had some party position before,” he said. “But courts are
sacred places. When we step into them, we strip ourselves of party
affiliations. We act independently,” he said.

With
the criminal case unlikely to be resolved in court, NRT has shifted its focus
from finding the perpetrators to seeking compensation for the damages it
suffered. Parliament passed an ad hoc resolution on February 23, 2011, ordering
the government to compensate NRT and other damaged media organizations
“according to the law.” Based on the resolution, the Court of Sulaymaniyah
has ruled that the
government is obligated to compensate NRT with US$15 million, according to
Ferhad Hatem, Sulaymaniyah’s attorney
general.

Osman
told CPJ that NRT has yet to receive the compensation, but he is optimistic
that his channel will get the money soon. He said the outstanding issue is not
if NRT should be paid for its losses, but how much.

Perversely,
the government’s willingness to reimburse NRT has strengthened the widespread
public belief that people in positions of power—either party or government
officials—must have carried out the attack on the television network, because
otherwise the government would not be willing to pay such a large sum of money to
a private corporation.

The criticism
comes from beyond journalists. Hatem, Sulaymaniyah’s attorney general, has appealed
the ruling in the Court of Sulaymaniyah, arguing that there is no legal basis for such
compensation.

“I
don’t want to hide it from you. There is a political aspect to this,” he told
CPJ. “Just ask yourself this question: Where in the world does the government
compensate for a crime it has not committed?”

Osman
says NRT sometimes tries to cover sensitive stories, but in at least one
instance it could not: the first anniversary of the attack on NRT.

A long,
investigative documentary was produced and scheduled to air under the title:
“Who Burnt Down NRT?”

The
film’s promotion aired for days. Despite anonymous phone calls warning the
station not to broadcast the documentary, it went on air as scheduled. Then, in
a matter of minutes, viewers lost the NRT signal in their homes. Osman said NRT
received another warning over the phone: “Last time, we just burned down the
television [station],” said the unidentified caller. “This time, we will burn
it down with all of you inside it.” The documentary was never broadcast.

In
October 2013, while NRT’s attackers still remained at large, the television
station itself became news again. Its owner, Shaswar Abdulwahid, was shot and wounded in Sulaymaniyah. He survived. But, again, the attackers committed their crime
with impunity.

A case of legal harassment

Not
every violation against the media in Kurdistan is as brazen as arson or murder.
Lawsuits and arbitrary detentions are also effective mechanisms for
threatening, harassing, or intimidating journalists into keeping silent.

Sherwan
Sherwani, the editor-in-chief of Bashur, a critical magazine based in
Dohuk province, was arrested without a warrant on April 20, 2012, and detained
for several days over two articles alleging public corruption. He was allowed
to leave prison on bail of 1 million Iraqi dinars (about US$858 at current
exchange rates). He told reporters that he had been arrested for political
reasons. He also disparaged Kurdistan’s legal system, likening it to “the rule
of qereqush” or “the rule of the
tyrant”—prompting the court to punish him with a fine of 200,000 Iraqi dinars
(about US$150) for insulting a public institution, he said.

Because of his journalistic work, Sherwani has
been prosecuted multiple times.

In 2013, he was sued for defamation by Bahzad
Barzani, a nephew of the president, in connection with an article in Bashur alleging that armed forces loyal
to the nephew operate a detention facility jailing dozens of political
prisoners. Sherwani told CPJ,“This
is an illegal prison, where dozens of people have been tortured to death or
have committed suicide.”

Sherwani said he learned of an arrest warrant
against him only after neighbors notified him of a police raid on his home
while he was away in December 2013. Bahzad Barzani denied allegations that he had
sent forces to raid the journalist’s home and said the police merely
implemented a court order to arrest him. Barzani’s lawyer, Sardar Raqib Najim,
said the arrest warrant was issued in June 2013 but the police had failed to
arrest Sherwani because of difficulty finding him.

In an interview with CPJ on December 20, 2013, Bahzad
Barzani confirmed that he had filed the defamation lawsuit. Sherwani “has
published some stuff about me in his magazine that has no basis,” Bahzad
Barzani said. “In the article, he has accused me of killing innocent people. He
should come to the court and prove that I have killed people. If he lied, he
should be held accountable for that. If he told the truth, then the court
should deal with me as a murderer.”

On December 22, 2013, Sherwani appeared in court
to testify and was once again released on bail
of 1 million Iraqi dinars. The trial has been delayed indefinitely. Sherwani
stands by his story and says he has three witnesses who have been subjected to
torture in the alleged prison, but are fearful of retribution for testifying
unless their identities are protected by the court.

Sherwani told CPJ that he no longer considers his
home a safe place, as it could at any time be raided by security or police forces
loyal to the KDP. “I’m always somewhere between Sulaymaniyah,
Erbil, and Duhok,” he said.

Namo Abdulla is an Iraqi Kurdish
journalist based in Washington, D.C., who studied journalism at Columbia
University. He is Washington Bureau Chief for Rudaw, a 24-hour news channel in
Kurdistan, and hosts a weekly, English-language political talk show called “Inside
America.” His writing has appeared in international publications such as Al-Jazeera
English, Reuters, and The
New York Times.

EDITOR’S NOTE: The 17th paragraph of this
report has been corrected to reflect that most independent papers publish only
on a weekly or bi-weekly basis--not all
independent papers as stated previously.

CPJ's Recommendations

To the Kurdish Regional Government:

Thoroughly investigate all unsolved attacks on journalists, including the murders of Sardasht Osman and Kawa Garmyane and the arson attack on Nalia Radio and Television (NRT), and hold to account all those responsible to the full extent of the law. Ensure that the families of killed or disappeared journalists are able to seek the truth about the fate of their relatives without fear of reprisal.

Publicly disclose the findings of the committee appointed by the president to investigate the murder of Sardasht Osman and any other official inquiries into attacks on journalists.

Provide training and education to judiciary and security officials to ensure no journalist is illegally detained in relation to his or her work. Publicly condemn instances of illegal detention and hold those responsible to account.

Take steps to amend the press law in consultation with local journalists, with the goal of banning vaguely worded prohibitions that are open to abuse and politicized prosecutions.

To the leaders of Kurdish political parties:

State publicly that your party encourages open debate and criticism and does not condone violence or other actions aimed at intimidating the press, including by security forces. Work actively to educate supporters about the law’s protection of journalists.

To the international community:

UNESCO, working under the U.N. Action Plan on Security of Journalists and the Issue of Impunity, should work with the Kurdistan Regional Government to develop and improve legislation and mechanisms to safeguard journalists and guarantee freedom of expression and information.

Civil society groups should work with the Kurdistan Regional Government to promote rule of law through training programs and the establishment of strong, independent government institutions.

Bilateral and multilateral trade partners should specify freedom of the press in negotiations over trade and investment with the Kurdistan Regional Government.